


the king and his queen

by valilia



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/M, Mastermind!Ouma, No Spoilers, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 09:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10941612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valilia/pseuds/valilia
Summary: They're made for each other. That's how things are supposed to be.





	the king and his queen

**Author's Note:**

> I know this ship isn't so popular in the English Fandom, so please refrain from reading if you don't like it.
> 
> This was written as a Mastermind!Ouma request for my Oumeno sideblog, so there aren't any kind of spoilers. 
> 
> It's my first work published here, English isn't my first language so please tell me if there's any kind of mistake! Beta'd by AnnieMcGarde and @castaspellonpanta on Tumblr 
> 
> I hope you like it ^^

“Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!”

Himiko feels alive again, like the first breath a baby takes after they’re born. A realization.

“Did you really think they were the mastermind? That would have been soooooo lame.”

Ouma jumps out of his place and begins to walk around, watching them similar to a scientific proving an experiment.  They already voted, they got the wrong person. Are they going to die?

Himiko wonders if she’s dreaming.

Turns out, by her classmates faces, she isn’t.

 

 

“You. Got. That. Wrong!” Ouma chants, holding Monokuma tightly to his chest, exhaling an aura of false and toxic innocence so tight it could choke everyone in the room.

They start to argue, once again, trying to connect all the events. Ouma rolls his eyes. Why? Why do they need to do that? Why don’t they swallow the facts as they are? Are they winning time or something?

Well, he doesn’t care about them at all. They are just useless toys who had done their job. Quite a lame job there, though. Ouma expected much more from them, but now it’s time to go buying some new toys.

Except for one. His all-time favorite one. He’s keeping her.

 

 

Himiko feels the ghost touch of a hand in her back. She perceives how her body reacts. There’s something familiar in it.

There’s something wrong. So, so wrong.

She shrinks.

Once he’s near her again, she can’t help staring with horror and disgust.

Himiko doesn’t want to, she wants to look aside and try to avoid reality as best as she can, believe she’s going to woke up and discover nothing happened. Not a single murder, all of them living in peace, having fun.

She wants to train with Tenko, paint something with Angie, do silly magic tricks.

Not this, she doesn’t want this.

She burst into tears.

 

 

“Oohh, why are you crying?”

Ouma moves to her side, hugging her close, everybody watching. He hates them, this is supposed to be a private moment! Don’t they understand this is the beginning of something beautiful, a long-craved love? He wants to shout at them, to go away, but she’s first, she always is.

“Do not worry, my dear.” He whispers, comforting her with his arms in her back drawing sloppy circles “I’m not letting you with all that garbage, you are too precious for that.”

She sighs, and there she is, there she is! His queen, his love, his everything.

Ouma will always love her, and Himiko will always love him. That’s how things are supposed to be.

Before that, he needs to get rid of these obstacles.

 

 

Once Himiko realizes she’s in his arms she screams, hitting him with all her force and struggling to get away from him. She feels sick of his touch, it’s overly sweet, it’s intimate, it’s weird.

She crawls far from him, until the fence doesn’t let her anymore. Himiko wipes her tears off and catches Ouma’s face, his eyes. There’s something warm in them, alongside a yearning sentiment with a hint of sadness.

Himiko wonders why she’s capable to read Ouma so well, that it isn’t normal to see someone’s pupils and recognize right off the bat their intentions. She doesn’t understand. She hates herself.

She wants to puke.

 

 

Screams, statements and rejections fly around again.

He’s getting tired of this. There’s nothing new in this! He expected so much more from them!

His only console is that the results they’ll give to him we’ll be magnificent, unique, satisfying; and that he’ll be with her, enjoying all the show.

“Well, well,” He claps his hands, getting the room’s attention, “if this already reached its best moment, I guess it’s time I do something about it!”

Leaving his queen’s side with remorse, he goes to sit in his throne. The room is silent, his classmates observing every step he takes. He likes that. The attention, the climax before the end.

“It’s punishment time!”

 

 

Ouma saves her from the execution, somehow. Nevertheless, Himiko would rather be dead than having to remember their screams, their faces, the blood everywhere.

He leads her to an exquisite room, full instruments for magic shows and shelves with all her favorites dramas. Himiko doesn’t even try to question why does he even know this.

Ouma locks the door and won’t open it for her for a long time.

She just stands there, sobbing, while Ouma rubs with affection her back, whispering sweet words about her beauty and strength, promising her the world and beyond, that she was his and he was hers.

“Do not hurry, my princess, we have eternity for us.” Ouma kisses her ear, and Himiko thinks for a moment if killing herself would be better than this.

 

 

He never leaves her side.

Over the minutes, the days, the weeks, the time; Ouma tells her how did he do it, how much did he plan, what sacrifices he make, how much time did he spend getting to meeting all of them to throw them there.

At first, she screams and weeps, keeps her hands in her ears trying to not listen to him at all. When she falls sleep because of her fatigue, he would kiss the wet spots in her face with the most delicate kisses, never touching her lips.

When she commences to close her emotions, to revert back to that shy and quiet girl he met back then, Ouma snuggles behind her and plays with her hair, softly telling her how much he loves her and pecking her neck. Himiko doesn’t react to it anymore.

 

 

When she has some sense of solitude, she cries.

And she cries, she cries, she cries.

In the nights, she’s at least relieved Ouma doesn’t try anything beyond hugs and kisses.

Himiko finds comfort in her dreams, where they’re all happy and alive again and there’s nothing to worry about, no Ouma or Monokuma or killing game. There’s no agony in her chest, no constant pain and no mourn.

When she wakes up, with him hugging her or staring, she has the increasing need to die.  

One day, Ouma begins to recount her about an old ally who supported him since his origins, who was his mole in the group and he appreciated with his whole live. Maybe that ally of his was the only person Ouma may have loved equally to her.

Himiko isn’t stupid. It doesn’t take too long before she connects the facts. That’s something the killing game taught her in the worst way.

Still, she doesn’t want to acknowledge it, so she fakes foolishness.

She wants to believe he’s lying.

 

 

Ouma knows she knows, and he’s thrilled because of it.

“It almost done,” he dances in delight, “she’ll be with me again.”

 

 

She tries to cope with the whole situation having faith most of the things he says are lies, and trying to ignore him sleeping with the slightest chance she gets.

She’s so sleepy, nowadays.

Himiko’s wary he recognizes all her movements, he didn’t say he was a master in body language for nothing. Still, she hopes she can fool him, find a crack she could use to her favor, somehow.

She has never been the optimistic type, but she needs to seek for force in herself.

Himiko isn’t aware she’s walking directly to his trap.

 

 

Ouma uses one of his best cards: pity with a shred of honesty.

He gives hints of his loneliness, how much does she matter to him, how without Himiko he’s practically nothing.

He pouts, rolls around, gives frank smiles, tears up and cracks his voice. Ouma considers this is his best performance yet when the first sign of empathy and regret appear in Himiko’s face. He’s in the right track.

And yeah, maybe there’s some lies and exaggeration in those statements.

Maybe he isn’t lonely at all with the ghost of her, maybe she matters to him more than she thinks she does, maybe she’s also anything without him.

Those are things better left unsaid.

 

 

She’s slowly forgetting the meaning of the people she left behind. Names like Kaede, Tenko, Angie, Maki, Kaito… They sound from another reality by this point. The memories she has appeal to be a dream.

Himiko’s too tired to keep mourning.

She lost track of time, a lot time ago, and she doesn’t even try to do it anymore. Too much energy trying to do, anyways. The only diversion Himiko seems to desire are the infinite number of stories Ouma mumble to her ear, rocking her in ever deeper fantasies.

A few times she catches herself paying attention to them, even staring at him. She’s conscious is wrong, she would have never done something similar before. But she doesn’t have enough energy now to differentiate between good and bad.  

She hasn’t given up, not yet.

Or that’s something she wants to believe.

 

 

When he surprises her touching with nostalgia the instruments in the room, he smiles to himself.

She has reached rock bottom, he thinks, and now it’s her time to rise again.

“Do you want to give me a show?” he suggests, and Himiko doesn’t even try to act surprised.

She grabs random weird stuff in his opinion, never gazing into his direction. Himiko clears her throat, closing her eyes and speaks for the first time since the trial.

“I’ll start with the classic rabbit in a hat.”

 

 

It goes downhill from there.

She makes small exhibitions for him, Ouma claps and congratulates her. Then, Himiko flips through the books and mangas, and oh! Turns out Ouma also loves that series! And he loves the same things she loves from it!

He’s making her talk to him, in whatever he can think of.

It’s too obvious it hurts, Himiko doesn’t care. She keeps quiet.

She’s supposed to reject him, to not care, to be repulsed to his closeness.

However, she doesn’t.

Because every time she forms the groan in his throat, makes the slightest move to shove him away or she gets stiff on purpose when he touches her; she remembers the weight in his voice about how he felt so alone all the time, the way Ouma hold her when expressing how much important she is for him, the implied toxic dependence going around between them.

Ouma reminds Himiko to herself a lot time ago, when she was alone.

And in that exact moment, when the guilt and pity wins over her resentment and hate, Ouma triumphs.

 

 

Ouma confesses why he did it, one day. He transfers that boredom, the emptiness inside him into words. How he found entertainment into examining others, their reactions, thoughts, train of actions. It was fun, taking note of how a human’s mind and morality works.

When Himiko doesn’t pull away immediately, he can relax.

“Aren’t you bored here, then?” Are the first words she says directly to him, taking him by surprise and almost making him jump of joy. “Locked in this room with me, doing nothing at all.”

The boredom, the tiredness, the indifference, all of them in her voice. The bright in her eyes, the will to do anything, the ideas flowing in her mind.

Ouma hugs her tight.

She’s back!

She’s back!

 

 

She hugs him back.

 

 

They’re about to step outside, once again, he can’t help but call her: “My queen.”

And his eyes are so full of love she doesn’t remember how to breath for a moment.

Then, Ouma grabs with gentleness her neck, and reaches for a kiss.

When their lips impact each other, it’s an explosion of delight, pleasure and trust; of pain, betrayal and homesickness; of fall, rise and victory.

 

 

Himiko kisses him back.


End file.
